


Fruit Punch Lips

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Jared, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Jared is 17, Jensen is 21, M/M, Marijuana, Panties, Shotgunning, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared thinks he doesn't want anyone to see him like this. Turns out there is one exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fruit Punch Lips

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】Fruit Punch Lips|酸甜果漾唇](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948311) by [Lehterasenko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehterasenko/pseuds/Lehterasenko)



If there is one lesson Jared should have already learned in his seventeen years on Earth, it’s to never, _ever_ drink something that Chad Michael Murray hands him.

Somewhere in between the “Yo, Jaybird, it’s senior year – let’s get loco!” and the Tang-colored liquid in the red Solo cup is where Jared should have paid more attention to the little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Gen and likes to sing-song “Never trust the Squinty-Eyed Sonofabitch.”

Maybe if he had, Jared wouldn’t be waking up on a wooden bench in the local playground at one in the morning wearing nothing but a few strands of –sticky, _ew!_ \--Mardi Gras beads and a pair of hot pink silk panties.

Jared sits up and takes a moment to assess the situation. His head is a bit foggy but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to barf on the nearest swing set, so that’s a plus. He pushes the long, sweat-sticky strands of his bangs out of his face, and is thankful that it’s May in Texas and so not cold enough to force his partially-exposed balls to recede into his body.

The thought of his balls leads him to stare down at where his poor dick is tucked inside the nothing piece of silk like a frightened turtle hiding out in his shell. 

“I’m going to kill you, Murray. Bash your filthy fucking head in with your own lacrosse stick.”

Jared takes a deep breath. It feels really good to say that out loud, even if the only response is a few bored crickets and the flicker of a street lamp.

He stands up, testing his steadiness on his feet. He’s satisfied that he’s not going to fall over, but when he starts walking, the uncomfortable feeling of his trapped dick and the tug of the elastic on his pubes forces him to adjust his gait. Hell, he’s walking so funny that he’s practically bowlegged like Jen—

He cuts himself off from thinking about his hot ass college boy neighbor when he realizes that his traitorous cock is waking up at the mere thought of those ridiculous curved legs and what’s likely in between them.

He reaches down to pull the silk wedgie out of his ass-crack before heading towards the less-trodden shortcut back towards his house. The last thing he needs is Sheriff Morgan or one of his deputies to drive by and find him looking like _this._ He’d never live it down at the next neighborhood barbeque.

“I’m going to kill Ch-a-a-ad,” Jared sings absently, Mardi Gras beads swinging as he heads down the little dirt pass. He spies his house and makes the decision that climbing the tree that leads directly into his bedroom window is a better bet than trying to sneak in the front door. It would be just his luck that his father would be getting a glass of water or something the minute he tried to come in. 

He stops and curses when he remembers that the only way to access the tree is via his neighbor’s backyard. Usually, it’s not a huge deal – hop over the fence, run like the wind, sneak in. Easy peasy. But he’s never done this particular climb wearing a scrap of uncomfortable pink fabric and nothing else.

“What’s a little chafing, right?” he mumbles to himself, before getting his hands up on the fence and starting to lift himself over. 

He makes it safely over and down, huffing just a little bit when the force of the jump shifts his dick against the tight material. The beads sway against his bare nipples, and they tighten to little buds in the warm-yet-crispy night air.

He’s careful to step around the pool, trying not to remember all the Sundays as a kid that he spent watching his older brother Jeff and his buddy Jensen leap off the diving board like idiots and crashing into the water. One particular summer, the year Jared turned thirteen, was even worse than usual, mainly because of the constant hard-ons Jared would get at even the thought of his soaking-wet, half-naked neighbor.

At least Jared had his sexual identity crisis early. Not that he turned down Sandy McCoy’s offer of a handjob after the junior prom because, hey, he’s a teenage boy and his dick has needs.

He’s suddenly so busy thinking about his dick and what his hot ass neighbor could do with it that he barely notices the figure lying on one of the deck chairs and smoking a joint.

“Fuck!” Jared yelps, slapping one hand to his mouth when he realizes how loud he’s being, and the other hand on his dick when he remembers the fucking pink panties.

The dick that is already half-hard and ready to burst out the sides right in front of Jensen Fucking Ackles.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty sight for sore eyes,” Jensen says with a chuckle, that stupid sex bomb voice of his low and raspy from the weed.

“Shut up,” Jared grumbles, both hands trying to shield himself now. He feels licks of heat straight up the sides of his neck, and he bets that his skin is practically the color of the panties at this point.

Jensen laughs again, even deeper this time, and Jared can feel the pulse in his fucking traitor of a cock under his palms.

“I’m going to assume this is Murray’s handiwork.”

“You assume correct.”

“He has nice taste in undergarments.”

Jared’s blushing so hard that his hair is practically ginger, but when Jensen leans forward into the low light on the yard, Jared sees that Jensen is looking at him with a lazy intensity that is going straight to his groin.

 _It’s just the pot,_ Jared tells himself, not quite able to grasp the concept of Jensen Ackles looking at him with anything other than vague little brother amusement.

But then he realizes something – Jensen’s been away at school and hasn’t seen him the entire school year. Jared’s shot up a good four inches in that time, and he’s bulked up a bit for lacrosse, so he’s not the gawky kid that Jensen remembers from the last time he was around.

Jensen’s straddling the deck chair now, thighs spread as he leans forward and brings the joint to his lips. He takes a long drag, and his gaze goes up and down Jared’s body in a way that is almost like a physical touch.

Jared doesn’t know what possesses him when he drops his arms loosely at his side, exposing himself completely. Maybe it’s the way Jensen’s eyes dip down to his dick, the outline of which is obscene against the thin smoothness of the material. Maybe it’s the way the slight breeze of the night air brushes past the skin of his stomach and thighs and causes tiny little goosebumps to spring up and stand at attention.

“You like that, Jared?”

“Like what?”

“Me looking at you.”

The words get stuck in his throat, so Jared just nods. His face heats up again, but it’s the good kind of heat now. The embarrassment is still there, the humiliation of getting caught and pinned like a butterfly on a mat, but now it’s mixed with something that might just be _hope._

Jensen gets up then, slowly, surely, walking over to Jared on those bowlegs like he has the right. He’s still got one hand on the joint, burnt down now as he presses it to plump pink lips, the ones that Jared were thinking about during his first wet dream.

“C’mere,” Jensen says, quiet like, close enough now that he doesn’t have to raise his voice for Jared to know exactly what he’s trying to say. 

Jared moves just a fraction, enough so that the warmth of Jensen’s body is radiating off onto his bare one. He tilts his head down, giddy with the knowledge that he’s taller than Jensen now, the power of it. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind it, a smirk tilting up one side of his mouth as he sucks in one more drag and brings his mouth right to the brink of Jared’s.

Jared opens to him, just like they both knew he would, and the seal of Jensen’s mouth pushing smoke down deep into Jared is both heady and hotter than anything Jared’s ever experienced before.

Jensen pulls back and Jared tries to force himself to breathe and stand at the same time.

“Turn around for me. I want to see you.”

Jared closes his eyes, overwhelmed by too many senses being tapped at once. He does what he’s told though, turning in a little half circle so that he’s exposing himself even more to Jensen’s gaze. He can feel the edges of the panties digging up into the crack of his ass, knows that the shadow of what’s behind the silk is visible now to Jensen’s eye. It’s shocking to Jared how much this is turning him on, knowing that Jensen is seeing him like this, vulnerable and open.

Jensen drops the joint to the ground, grinding it out with his boot before reaching back up and around with still-warm fingers to graze across Jared’s nipples.

Jared can’t help a gasp, the sudden sensation of those guitar-playing callouses on the tight tip of his nipples almost enough to get him to jizz in his panties.

“You’re so sensitive,” Jensen says, whispering the words into the nape of Jared’s neck. 

Jared shivers all over as he feels the hand in the small of his back guiding him belly-down onto the nearest lounger. The hand slides down the bare slope of his spine, fingers tapping out a melody on his skin as they guide over the very top of the slip of material covering his ass.

“So fucking pretty like this. Like a present just for me.”

Jensen’s finger slides slower, deeper, down the thin silk directly covering Jared’s hole.

Jared feels exposed like this, ass up in the air, Jensen’s denim-covered thighs pressing up against the bareness of his own. But it feels good too, showing off like this, knowing that Jensen is above him, looking, wanting, aching to touch.

Jensen’s thumb is rubbing over that little patch now, light and smooth, but enough pressure to show intent. 

“You ever have anything in this pretty hole of yours, Jared?”

Jared remembers looking out his window, past that damn tree and right into the Ackles’ yard. Remembers Jensen swimming, bare and gleaming. Remembers feeling empty enough to try it, just one time, knowing he’s going to do it again the next time.

“Yeah,” is what he stutters out.

“You ever have a cock up there, baby?”

“N-no.”

“Fingers, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Someone else’s? Slim little girl fingers, the kind that can’t hit the right spot?”

“No, no one else.”

“Yours then, hmm. You finger yourself at night, sweetheart? Think about what else can go up there in that tight, sweet, pretty place?”

“You, Jensen. God, just you. Think about _you_.”

An admission that you fuck yourself to visions of your big brother’s buddy is not exactly where Jared thought his night was going to go, but now that he’s here, and Jensen’s pulling aside the silk to run a spit-slick thumb across the tight furl of his asshole, he can’t say that he regrets it.

“Been saving this for me, my pretty boy? Is this all mine?”

Jared feels it when Jensen spits directly on his hole, feels it dripping down his perineum, hot and used. Jared just presses back up into it, moaning into his forearm and willing Jensen to go ahead and do it already.

The first finger goes in rough, the way not slick enough, and Jared stutters out a tiny grunt of pain. Jensen runs his free hand up Jared’s spine, soothing him, and leans in to spit again, right where his finger is pressing open Jared’s flesh.

It gets easier after that, Jared’s inner walls tugging at first the one, then a second finger, as Jensen breaks him open with skill and patience. He leans over and starts rubbing Jared’s dick through the panties, and the feel of warm silk is like an embrace.

Jared feels it then, Jensen’s dick hard and fierce and still encased in denim as he humps against Jared’s hip. Jensen’s fingers are working steadily, a third one in his ass as the others strip Jared’s dick without ever taking it out of the material covering it. 

He’s leaning over, biting kisses into Jared’s shoulders, the knob of his spine, the back of his neck. He smells like weed and Dr. Pepper and aftershave, and altogether it creates the scent of Jared’s sexual awakening.

Jared’s coming just like that, jizzing white hot in hot pink silk, his childhood crush now four fingers deep in his ass as he’s bent over a deck lounger in the open air not a hundred yards from where his parents are sleeping.

Jared’s never come so hard in his _life._

It’s not a minute later when Jensen is letting out a low moan into the middle of Jared’s shoulder blades and coming in his jeans. 

Jared knows how that goes. He slumps down to the lounger and waits for Jensen to pull out his fingers.

But Jensen doesn’t, instead twisting them around lazily until Jared’s insides tug possessively against them.

“Round two, baby,” Jensen says with another chuckle, and Jared suddenly can’t wait to see what summer break is going to bring them.


End file.
